Sleeping In Your Ball Dress
by SherlockIsMyHolmesBoy
Summary: It's college, and the morning after a big party Tom and Julia contemplate their future.


Slowly, he could see the light creep into his eyes.

Ow. Ow ow ow.

Then the pain in his head. Like someone was having a rock concert in there. He lay there for a few minutes, contemplating the possible outcomes if he opened his eyes. None of them were good. He'd see the mess his room had been left in, he'd see the mess HE'D been left in and he couldn't quite remember if there was an accompanying mess lying in the bed next to him. He heard a rustle. There was definitely someone else in the bed with him but that sounded like far too much taffeta to be a tuxedo. He slowly prized open his right eye.

A mound of black ballgown lay in a crumpled heap, with a mess of red hair above it. Julia. Well thank god for that. At least he hadn't ended up with some random guy in his bed.

He closed his eye and tried to remember as much as he could about the previous night. He'd hosted a party in his dorm room to celebrate the end of their college life. A black tie affair, of course, as Tom's parties generally were. He remembered drinking a LOT of cheap fizzy wine, and then someone bringing out a bottle of champagne - he had no idea where that had come from. He remembered hosting a singalong at the piano, while he had still been sober enough to play. Then he remembered dancing with Julia, and amusing their friends with their ability to waltz.

More rustling next to him. He opened his right eye again to see the pile of gown move, groan slightly and sit up in bed. Julia turned to look at him.

"Morning." she croaked. "Oh god…I need water." She slowly swung her feet to the floor and hobbled into the bathroom. She came back moments later with two glasses of water. "Drink this."

Tom closed his eyes and used all his energy to sit up in the bed.

"Sweet Jesus my head…" he squeaked as he sat up.

"Drink. Drink water. It's good."

As Tom sipped his glass of water he took stock of himself. Still wearing a tux. One shoe on. Bowtie missing. He turned and took stock of Julia. Hair a frizzy mess. Eye makeup smeared across her face. No shoes. And a run in her stockings.

Yup, she was definitely more of a mess than him.

He started to look round the room. Balloons lay on the floor, empty wine glasses, half eaten plates of food…

Julia looked at her feet and rubbed her toes. "Please remind me to never wear those heels again. I'm not going to be able to feel my toes for a week."

"But they were so pretty!" Tom was a sucker for a cute pair of shoes. "You looked so pretty!"

"Yup, and now I pretty much have feet that are useless."

Tom stood, closed his eyes and waiting for the swirling to stop. He stumbled over to the coffee maker and started filling it. "Julia, do you remember making me play 'One Day More' last night?"

"Yes. And do you remember telling everyone how 'Making It' was only the beginning and they should watch out because in ten years they'd see us winning a Tony?"

Tom looked at Julia. "I did? Now that I don't remember…" 'Making It' had been a show they'd written for their college's drama group. It had played a few performances and been well received. Both Julia and Tom had loved every minute of creating the show. Tom found working with Julia was a pleasure, and they both knew that they had a huge amount of potential together. Tom looked over at the Making It poster he had framed on his dorm room wall. All the cast had signed it as a gift to him. They both knew the show was a little cheesy, some of the songs could be better and there was some lines in there that were real stinkers, but that poster was one of Tom's most prized possessions.

He poured out two cups of coffee. "Here." he walked back to the bed and handed a cup to Julia. "Party cure." He sat in the armchair next to his bed and looked at her. "So what happens now?"

"Might I suggest cleaning your room?"

"No, I mean, we're done with college. We have finals and then that's it. Then what?"

"You're thinking about this now? Tom, I can barely remember my own name."

"But didn't you have FUN doing Making It?" Tom smiled to himself. "I've always wanted to write a show, seeing it there on stage was just the best feeling…"

"I know Tom. I could tell when you spent the first half of the opening performance weeping into my sleeve."

"You weren't much better. I seem to remember you spending most of the dress rehearsal panicking in the ladies bathroom."

"If we're going to do this again I think we need to get our coping stratagies in check."

"I make no promises not to weep openly at every opening night we ever have."

"Sweetie" Julia sat up in bed and downed the last of her coffee "if we have another opening night I'll be weeping right there with you." She climbed off the bed, placed her coffee cup down on the table and straightened her dress. "I'm going home to shower and change." She moved over to Tom and kissed him on the forehead. "Lunch later?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

Julia opened the front door of Tom's dorm room, paused and turned around. She looked back at the Making It poster on his wall. "We're good at this, you know." She looked at Tom. "We're really good at this." She smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

Tom stood and stretched. The caffeine had dulled his head, and he felt more awake. He sat at his piano and began playing chords. "Friendship." he said to himself. "The next show should be about friendship." He was already mentally writing his Tony acceptance speech.


End file.
